Author's Note: Now that my university obligations are done for the year I should spare more free time for this...'Should' is the key word, I promise nothing.
You need to get out of here! Run! You can't stay here!
Phil's soul seemingly screamed at him. The moment he locked eyes with the petite figure, a part of him somewhere deep down inside of him wanted nothing more than to throw off whatever bonds held him in place and flee, even if it meant out of a window of the top floor.
Unfortunately whatever tied him to the bed kept him from moving anything but his torso and head, forcing him to shuffle uncomfortably under the soft yet heavy duvet.
The young lady smiled and performed an elegant curtsy. "A pleasure to meet you at last my beloved, I am Cecilia Belbrook." She stated calmly. Once her curtsy was finished, she flashed him a wide smile, somehow conveying both innocent glee and predatory lust at once.
Phil felt himself instinctively shuffle back under her gaze. "We...we've never met before" He muttered numbly. She giggled in reply, a dainty titter like birdsong.
"Perhaps not" she said "but I've been waiting oh so long for you my dear"
"Well either way, you're the reason I'm trapped in here right? Let me go already!"
She watched him struggle futilely with a wide grin, like a child observing the fruitless struggles of an insect in a jar.
"Adorable though your struggles may be, they are pointless. You cannot escape me as you are now. Besides, you lost the game did you not? You were ensnared three times and now all avenues of escape are locked to you."
Phil frowned. "But I DID escape. Towards the end, I got out!"
"You simply opened the doors silly, not only did you fail to step beyond them, but you didn't escape the whole estate proper."
"You cheated dammit!"
The young girl ignored him, pressing a finger to her lips as if in thought.
"Still, it was risky to let the spares taste you like that. All other mean have been drained dry at their hands." She beamed down at him, her fingers fiddling with her straps and laces. "I suppose the fact that you're the only one to survive is cause for celebration!".
"You can celebrate by letting me go home!"
His insistence falling on deaf ears, Phil could only lie there and watch his captor undress in front of him.
Loosening knots and removing straps she let her gothic gown fall from her figure, an elegant shape that curved and twisted into a supple body that betrayed the true age of the monster standing before him.
Fine silk and lingerie, frilled at the trim like her dress, hugged her shapely form like a second skin. Black like the rest of her palette, it stood out in contrast to her pale skin.
She turned around in mock embarrassment, hiding her body behind the abnormally long curtain of hair and turning her head to look back at him with a sultry smile.
Not breaking eye contact, she bent her body forward as if to remove the clothing beneath her feet, all the while keeping her ass up in the open as if to display it to her unwilling audience.
The curtain of hair parted like the opening act to an erotic show, providing him a glimpse at her shapely buttocks, still obscured by her tight panties but that only served to accentuate the shape.
Despite rationality arguing to not give in to her game, to resist her and try to escape, Phil found he couldn't look away.
Slowly, in no clear rush whatsoever, she removed the clothes at her feet and the heeled shoes she wore, keep her arse steady and visible aside from the occasional cheeky wriggle.
Leaving her thigh high socks on, she stood back up and turned to face Phil, beaming at his flushed face and drooling mouth.
"Oh my, is the sight of my beauty so grand that it has you enraptured so soon?"
Phil heard her taunt and his body flushed vermilion in shame, but his mind was still hazy and it was difficult to find the words to respond to her.
All he could manage to do instead was glare at her, though to anyone else it would have looked like his facial features had contorted into a puzzled frown, like a man fighting to express two separate emotions at once and couldn't pick between the two.
The young witch watched his clumsy scowl with a smile, absent of malice and devilish glee but filled with patient and warm love.
"If you show me such a cute expression, I am afraid I will be unable to control myself too" she warned, licking her lips.
Her eyes found his glare and challenged it, the haze that swamped Phil's already addled mind had grown thicker the longer he stared back at her, but he just couldn't muster the sense to look away either.
With a giggle, Cecilia lifted up the covers from the bottom of the bed and dived in, a lump on the duvet being all that signified the approaching woman as she burrowed towards her prey's defenceless form.
Phil felt her warm touch caress his inner thighs first, slender fingers massaged his muscles and slid across sweat-slick skin before cupping his balls.
"It certainly is a fine specimen" came her bewitching voice, drifting out from under the covers. "The mere sight of it, it's smell, it's taste --" punctuated by her tongue running along the length of the flesh "-- everything about it simply sets my heart ablaze. Ohhh how outstanding!"
Her flushed and heavy panting swamped his penis as her curious hands groped his shaft vehemently. What started as a gentle touch quickly ignited into a passionate motion of lust, the young witch's hands pumped the cock they held and gained speed faster than her body flush into heat.
The movement lifted the duvet slightly and offered Phil, amidst his wincing, a glimpse of his assailant.
She stared back with upturned eyes, her face as close to his dick as she could manage, resting on his skin as if glued to it. Her idle tongue snaked out from her glistening mouth and crawled along the area around the base of the rod. Her other hand had reach out across his torso, leisurely caressing Phil's chest with no real goal or aim aside from feeling up as much of her "'lover' as physically possible.
Phil was forced to do nothing but watch, flinching whenever her tongue flickered at his frenulum or gasping in morbid delight whenever she took the entire length into her small mouth, her delicate, dainty lips now clamping down sluttily on the meaty pillar, bubbly saliva spilled erotically from the corners of her mouth and flew away in time with her rough head bobbing.
The same tongue that spoke beautiful birdsong was now letting out guttural and lascivious slurping moans that dominated the otherwise silent room.
Phil would often glance up amid his spasms and see the dolls surrounding the bed just watching them.
No, not them, him.
They trained their focus on him alone, the same vacant and empty expression present on all their faces but there was something else there. A slight twitch of the muscles, shifting feet, quiet but ragged breaths, hands creeping to neglected nethers, their movements were subtle enough to be barely noticeable and yet they stood out more because of the unnatural stillness of the dolls beforehand.
They were growing impatient, watching their master going to town on the man that up to now, they had dominion over, must have been torturing their horny souls.
Though relieved they weren't pouncing on him immediately, he couldn't help but fear a twinge of fear that they might submit to their temptations and attack without warning.
"Do my delightful children frighten you dear?"
Phil turned back to his captor who had now defused her mouth from his cock, remnants of spit still coating the shaft as her hand heedlessly pumped it rhythmically and strands bridged the gap between the dick and her lips.
The slutty girl slid her body upwards, carefully making sure their bodies remained glue together the whole time. He felt the petite bumps of her breasts as they squished against him, her humid breath on his skin and the unmistakable wetness of her slit sliding up his side.
With her hand still tending to his erect member, she peeked her head out of the blankets, draping her body on top of him as she looked up at him affectionately, almost as if she wanted to let him know how much she owned him in that moment.
"Fuck...you...!" He muttered between breaths.
To her credit, the witch didn't so much as flinch at his words.
"If you're going to be distracted while your betrothed services you lovingly then maybe I can put my toys to better use..."
Without shifting her gaze, she brought a slender hand out from the covers and snapped her fingers.
The dolls blinked once and, as if receiving an unheard command, marched out of the room in an orderly manner, except for the three dolls Phil had yet to recognize.
Before he could ask her what she was planning, Cecilia plugged his mouth shut with her own, her greedy tongue slapped at the insides of his mouth, tasting his gums and dominating his own tongue, which felt clumsy and weak in comparison.
Whenever he tried to turn his head away, she reached out with her hand, gripping his face tightly as she held him in place while her thighs pinned down his penis, trapping it between her soft legs and his stomach.
She eventually cut off the kiss with a loud, wistful sigh, as if she wanted the kiss to continue for longer. But if she was upset, the mere sight of her captive brightened her mood again.
"No doubt you're wondering why you are here to begin with" It wasn't a question, she knew it was what he wanted to know.
Phil wanted to reply with as much dry humour and venom he could mix together, but the kiss had left his tongue numb somehow, drunk on her taste and too dizzy to continue it's function.
Though perhaps, whatever she did to him, was to allow her to speak without interruption.
"You may not know anything about your heritage, but your ancestors, The Carlyles, where once noble Barons that ruled these fields some 300 years ago. They weren't particularly noteworthy, neither abundantly kind nor distinctly unfair to their subjects, but the kind of anonymity that can bring is not necessarily a bad thing.
It was, however, in 1822 when their lifestyle would decay, thanks to the young heir, Philip Carlyle."
